


Something New

by Verai



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: !protective Arthur, Clothed Sex, F/M, Lemony goodness, No Spoilers, Smut, Virgin Reader, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verai/pseuds/Verai
Summary: You were just minding your own business, but sometimes, things don't go your way. But other times, something new happens in your life, and you choose to take it by the hand and go with it.





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faithseed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithseed/gifts).



> Terrible summary, I know. Basically Arthur's gonna help you out of a jam and you reward him with a little something something, you know what I mean? Also the term Y/N throws me off, so I'm gonna avoid it if possible. If you've read any of my other works, then you know how I write my men: tough, commanding, a bit dominating, with a warm heart.

“C'mon now, is that any way to treat a feller that just bought you a drink?”

The clearly drunk young man was leaning a bit too close to you, his hand on your chair was reaching for your back, and his other arm was on the bar, forming a cage around you. Not that you couldn't get out of this: you grew up with 4 brothers, learned how to tussle and scrap. Then they all went their separate ways, leaving you alone with your folks, who passed just a year ago. Had to sell the house to pay off their debts that you hadn’t known about. Been working at this saloon as a serving girl since then, just trying to get by. But you longed for something more. Adventure? Romance? Or just somewhere to belong? 

This saloon and the barkeep were all you had at the moment, but every night was the same shit. The barkeep only saw you as a faceless employee, even after a year. Not for lack of trying to be friendly on your part. He just didn't give a donkey's hinder about anyone, just as long as they didn't bring any trouble to his place. But he was kind enough, let you sleep in the attic, let you have staff meals, and every once in a while, gave you some bonus pay if it was a profitable night.

But back to the drunkard. His whiskey breath lingered around you, and you tried not to breathe it in. The drink he claimed he had bought for you remained untouched on the bar. Your eyes observed him, trying to find a good time to bolt out of the chair, or perhaps kick him in the balls if you really needed to.

“I appreciate it, but I haven’t accepted your drink. You’re welcome to have it back,” you said a bit snarkily.

“Bitch!”

He raised a hand to slap you. Fortunately it was the arm that was keeping you trapped in the chair, so you nimbly ducked out of the way and tried to circle around the bar to put some space between you two.

A grubby hand grabbed your upper arm and you were pulled back suddenly. The drunkard was surprisingly quick for being so out of sorts.

“I want what I paid for!” he yelled, slurring his words.

“You paid for nothin’!” you screamed back.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, and you were ready to turn and kick him proper when a gravelly voice rang in your ears.

“I’m trying to have a nice drink, you’re ruining the mood.”

The somewhat scruffy looking man at the bar was looking at the two of you, and you recognized the pair of sharp blue eyes. Arthur, the man with no last name (that he'd tell you), who wandered into town a few months ago and caused very little trouble, just a couple of fist fights and one crazy drunken night with one of his buddies. He was always polite to you, and if you got him drunk enough, he’d tell you a story about being out west. Never anything specific, of course. You suspected he was a wanted man somewhere.

On several occasions, he would interrupt a troublemaker just long enough for you to get a good kick in, maybe bash a man's head in with a nearby bottle, and get away. And he never stepped in if it was clear you had it under control.

Which you always did. 

Well, usually you did. 

A swift kick to the drunkard's weak spot was blocked by a leg. 

“Oh, I've heard about you, missy. The ball buster, they call ya. But not this time.”

He grabbed your wrists with one hand, your throat with the other, and pushed you to the closest corner. Stumbling backwards gave you no chance to kick, and knowing the patrons were too drunk or too ambivalent to care about one girl about to be manhandled in a bad way, you struggled in his grasp. Adrenaline raced through you as you realized that perhaps this man was not as drunk as your usual opponents. 

“There's a bet goin’ around, ya see. Who'll break you first.” He smiled, his eyes darkening. “I bet you're a hellcat in bed.” The hand around your throat tightened just a bit more.

You spit at him, and in response he let go of your throat and slapped you, hard. You could taste a bit of blood on your lips, and felt angry and scared. You glared at him. You wouldn’t give up.

A hand appeared on the man's shoulder. He was suddenly pulled away from you, and Arthur’s broad shoulders filled your vision. He stood in front of you, facing the drunkard, and you could feel the anger emanating from him.

“Now you done it, boy. I wanted to have a nice drink, but you gone and ruined it. Now you gotta pay.” 

The drunkard was strong, but Arthur was ridiculously strong. You watched in a daze as they punched it out, wincing each time Arthur got hit. But he fought with fury, each hard blow driving the other man towards the exit. When they were close to the doors, Arthur dove for the man, picked him up and chucked him out the doors, followed by cheers from the saloon patrons.

“That guy was an asshole.”  
“A chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder.”  
“Glad someone showed him up.” 

You could barely hear anything above the pounding of your heart and the slow, rhythmic steps of Arthur as he walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You okay?” he rumbled quietly as he stopped before you, one arm reaching to the wall behind you, leaning over as he checked you for other injuries. Unlike with the other man, you didn’t feel caged in; it felt like he was protecting you. His eyes lingered on the bruises on your wrists, your neck, and then to your lips, where blood was slowly drying on your skin.

“Sorry I didn’t stop him sooner,” he said as he slowly reached out for your cheek. He gently wiped the blood from your face with his calloused thumb.

“I… It’s alright. I’ve never failed to protect myself before,” you tell him, your voice cracking a bit. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. From this close, you could see the bruise start to form above his left eye, the blood flecks on his face. Without thinking you reached out to him too. “I'll help you clean up, it's the least I can do.” 

He stepped back and followed you into a back room where there was a washing basin and some washcloths. You grabbed a clean one, soaked it in the cold water, and turned to gently wipe the blood off his face. He was standing so close to you that you could feel his body heat, and in the autumn evening air, you edged slightly closer to him. 

Arthur just watched you silently as you wiped his brow, his cheek, his hands. You were so lost in the task, you almost missed him speak. 

“Darlin’, you're too trusting.”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Leadin’ a man into a back room, alone.”

To be honest, if he wanted to take advantage of the situation, you'd gladly let him. But you wouldn't tell him that, not without a few shots of whiskey. And his tone irked you a little. 

“I can take care of myself,” you said sulkily as you flung the washcloth into the dirty pile. 

“Yeah, I saw.” He inched a bit closer to you. 

You immediately looked away, angry that he'd bring that up again. You bit your lip, tried to will away the negative emotions of tonight. 

He sighed and he stepped back. “That wasn't fair of me. You're a tough woman. I've never had to step in until tonight.”

You let it go. He did save you, after all. “Thank you, really.” Looking at his relaxed stance, leaning against the table, you decided on a bold move. Placing your hands ever so lightly on his chest, you leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

He turned his head at the last second and caught your lips. Surprised, you tried to move back but his arms wrapped around you, one hand splayed at the small of your back, one hand holding the back of your neck. 

The kiss started slow, his lips coaxing you into opening for him, and as you gave in, he languidly took his time with you, the hand rubbing circles at your back. You crushed yourself against his strong chest. He stopped kissing your lips and moved down your cheek to your neck, where he breathed in deeply. 

Then Arthur swung you around and you found yourself lying on the table, your legs hanging over the side. He held you down, none too gently, and you could feel him getting hard against your leg. He kissed you again and you moaned, perhaps a bit too loudly. You reached up for his shirt buttons and started fumbling with them.

“Keep doing things like that, and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he growled when he broke for air.

“Then don’t stop,” you said breathily.

He grinned wolfishly and stepped between your legs. Leaning forward and grinding into your core, you gasped as he started to unbutton your dress.

“You said don’t stop, princess.” He pushed the dress down your shoulders, grabbed the top of your chemise, and tore it open. Then his mouth and hands were on your breasts and you just felt so damn GOOD, you forgave him for tearing your undergarments.

Then he stood up straight, looking down at you the way a man who knows he’s about to have his way with a woman, and undid his belt. He pushed your dress up to your waist and pulled your drawers off. The cool air chilled your skin, but it was his gaze at your most intimate parts that made you tremble. He looked up and caught your eyes, and undid his button fly. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched each button come undone. 

When he pulled out his cock, you covered your face with your hands. How could something so big fit inside you? 

“Thought you were enjoyin’ the show, darlin’,” he said as he grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table. He teased your opening, slick with your wetness. This was the first intimate contact you've had with a man, but you didn't want to tell him that. 

Leaning over you again, he cupped your cheek and kissed you, his other hand grabbing your thigh as he pushed into you. You winced, and he stopped. 

“Are you sure you wanna be doin’ this?” 

“Why you askin’ now?” 

He pushed a little more and you winced again. 

“You're a virgin, ain't ya.” He said it as a statement. 

“It's fine,” you said, impatient. “I want you, Arthur.” Just to prove it, you wrapped your legs around him to push him in a bit more. 

He said your name softly as he gave you the most heartwarming smile and took your lips in a passionate kiss. Then he touched his forehead to yours and looked into your eyes.

“Then look at me when I take you,” he whispered, and thrust all the way inside. He watched as your eyes watered a bit, but you took a deep breath and took all of him inside, your eyes on him the whole time. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, and started to move. You squeezed your eyes closed in discomfort. 

“Eyes on me, darlin’.”

You opened your eyes, and managed to keep them on him as he slowly started to move inside you. As the pain became pleasure, you started mewling with the sensations, unable to stop the sounds coming from you. The two of you moved together, and everything felt so right. You have no idea how much time passed as he took your body, spreading your legs and standing, grabbing your ankles and other things to slightly change the angle of his thrusts, making you moan with complete abandon.

As your body tightened, he covered your body once more, and cupped your face with both his hands. He whispered your name to get you to focus on his face.

“Come for me,” he commanded.

Something inside you snapped and you came, hard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your screams and responding with his own moans as he came too, filling you. Both you and Arthur lay still on the table, catching your breaths.

“That was fun,” you finally say.

Laughing, Arthur got up. He helped you get cleaned up and your clothes back on.

“Sorry about your, uh, under things,” he said, a bit sheepishly.

“I can always sew it back together,” you said as you led him out of the room.

Back in the saloon, things were winding down, and people were slowly trickling out to go home, or upstairs to a rented room to sleep off their hangovers.

The barkeep eyed you as you came up to the bar and sighed. “You know, you’re good help, but the amount of trouble you bring has been gettin’ more each night,” he said. “Maybe it’s time you found work elsewhere, where you don’t have such a… reputation.”

Your first thought was to yell “what reputation”, but after a second, you figured it out. Maybe it was time to get a move on, to a place where all the sleazy bastards weren’t making bets on trying to get under your skirt. Was it that bad to be a prude? Were you even a prude to begin with, especially after what you just did with Arthur?

Didn’t matter anymore. You nodded at the barkeep. “Come morning, I’ll start looking.” 

You turned to see Arthur watching.

“Uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But, maybe…” He trailed off, unsure.

“What is it?”

“Maybe you can come with us?” He gave you a lopsided grin. “I, er, we, could use some capable people helpin’ out. You seem like a hard worker.”

You walked closer to him and whispered, “aren’t you an outlaw?”

“Hey, just offerin’,” he said, stepping back.

“I didn’t say no,” you replied. “Lemme get my things, I’ll go with ya.”

You didn’t miss the full grin on his face as you ran back to pack your meager belongings into your bag. Running back out, you saw him getting his horse ready. He tied your bag to his horse, hopped on, and reached his hand out to you.

“You ready for somethin’ new?” he asked.

“Yup, sure am,” you said with a smile, and took his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> faithseed, this is all your fault; I read all your fics and got inspired to write my own. Also thanks to the many other authors who are adding to that Arthur Morgan/Reader tag, I read every single one that has no spoilers.


End file.
